


Solar Lights Don't Care If You're Gay

by Tarayzan



Category: Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 20:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/904819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarayzan/pseuds/Tarayzan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I've had this lurking on my laptop for ages so I thought I'd post it, I may continue if people like it but this is purely just to see what you think as I'm not too sure about it. Pretty darn fluffy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solar Lights Don't Care If You're Gay

"Ryan, I love you and everything, but FOCUS or I swear to god I'm going to beat you to death with a mozzarella stick!" Pete growled, reaching behind him and throwing a red cushion at the bemused teenager. 

"Sorry." Ryan shook his head, completely oblivious to the fact that he'd just been struck by something and being rather impressively nonchalant.

"Dude, you have to use the watermelon to float! Are you LISTENING to me?" 

"Yeah, sorry, float on the watermelons." He nodded, still oblivious.

"Thankyou. Now you just need to look at the screen instead of the gardener's ass and you'll be set."

"I wasn't looking at his ass!" Ryan turned his attention to Pete, who had paused Rayman Origins and was staring at him, one eyebrow raised.

It had been a week since Pete's parents had hired a gardener to keep up with their many acres of land. Seven days. And within those seven days Ryan had spent the vast majority of 168 hours sat on Pete's living room floor, staring in admiration at the eighteen year old gardener, and it certainly wasn't admiration over what he could do with Dale Wentz's chrysanthemums. 

"You have a crush, don't you?" Pete teased, giggling and pointing at him accusingly with an Xbox controller. 

"No!" Ryan reddened, un-pausing the game and diverting his full attention towards his character, who was lagging profusely behind Pete's. It wasn't Ryan's fault, the gardener had been bending over, and when he bent over Ryan found it physically impossible to look anywhere else.

A muffled laugh could be heard from the corner of the room, where Patrick was sitting cross-legged, hunched over his guitar.

"Ryan, you’re a terrible liar." He laughed, setting down his guitar and sitting down on the floor next to Pete, leaning back against the sofa. 

Ryan remained silent, sighing with annoyance when his character got attacked by a puffer fish and floated up out of the water. 

"Stupid Teensie." Ryan mumbled, "I knew I should have been Rayman." 

"Yes, but he’s always mine." Pete grinned smugly.

"Shut up, just 'cause you can bond over the size of your legs," Ryan smirked.

"But he has no...OH, oh, nice one Jack Skellington." 

"Nothing wrong with that!" Ryan smiled. 

"Guys, guys, calm!" Patrick raised his voice, making calming gestures with his hands. "Pete, you're freakishly short and Ryan, you're freakishly tall. Can we just, settle, please?"

"You're shorter than me!" Pete squealed.

"Not by much!" Patrick counteracted.

Ryan smirked, pleased with the fact that everyone was now focused on something other than his ever-growing crush on the gardener. He rolled on to his side, leaning on the sofa and looking back at him. 

Ryan sighed dreamily as the gardener began unbuttoning his shirt, tossing it aside. He raked his fingers through his scruffy brown hair, making Ryan's insides do things he thought could only be caused by Mr Gerard Way.

"He looks hot." Pete remarked, following Ryan's gaze to the now semi-naked gardener. 

"He is hot." Ryan sighed.

"Tell us again how you don't have a crush on this guy?" Patrick giggled, his green eyes glistening with amusement.

"You don't even know his name!" Pete laughed, shielding his eyes from the sun that was streaming in through the glass doors that gave Ryan a spectacular view of the garden, and he who worked in it. 

Ryan gave Pete his best hurt bunny look.

"Brendon Urie." Pete told him, "He's eighteen and he's a singer."

"And why didn't you tell me this before?" Ryan furrowed his eyebrows.

"You never asked," Pete shrugged, getting up and opening the doors, “He plays guitar too.”

"Pete!" Ryan hissed. 

"BRENDON!" Pete shouted, ignoring Ryan, who had flushed bright red. 

"Yeah?" He answered, straightening up and wiping his forehead. 

His voice was deep, a little raspy and Ryan melted a little at the sound of it. His thoughts were suddenly crowded with the prospect of that velvety voice singing to him or whispering into his ear.

"D'you want to come in and chill for a bit? It's boiling out here." 

"Um, are you sure that's okay?" Brendon asked, picking up his shirt.

"Yeah!" Pete grinned smugly at Ryan. 

"Thanks!" Brendon jogged towards them. 

"Brendon, this is Patrick Stump and Ryan Ross." 

"Hi." Brendon smiled warmly, addressing both Patrick and Ryan. 

It was only one of the two though, who noticed that Brendon's liquid brown eyes lingered on Ryan a little longer than they should have.


End file.
